


In. Out.

by Gallixie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11.22, Angst, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Panic Attacks, Trauma, i would say hurt/comfort but there is no comfort, just pain, spn 11.22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:04:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6944713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallixie/pseuds/Gallixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logically, he knew Lucifer couldn’t hurt him. That had been proven by his inability to kill Dean with a snap of his fingers earlier - something they had Chuck to thank for, apparently. As underwhelming as he was, considering he was capital G “God”, sometimes he did prove himself. It was enough to keep Sam’s faith afloat, even when certain comments pierced him to his core.</p><p> <i>(“And I wasn’t going to mention this, but thank you so much for springing him.”</i><br/><i>“That wasn’t really the plan, um…”)</i></p><p> But none of this stopped him from collapsing in a boneless heap behind closed doors, breathing as erratic as his heartbeat after being in the same room as him for too long. Logic held no sway over the tremble in his hands and the thumping in his head.</p><p>(A short fix-it fic for 11.22)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In. Out.

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a crappy bandaid for why we didn't see any of Sam's trauma addressed on screen. I am a bitter Sam girl and no one can stop me.

_ In. Out. In. Out. _

Sam could still feel Lucifer’s arm slung around his shoulder, breath heavy on his neck. The weight choking him. Even all the way across the bunker from him, as far as he could get, he could feel him. It made his stomach churn, bile rising in his throat.

_ In. Out. In. Out. _

(The bile receded.)

It wasn’t as bad when he could see him. It was Cas’s face, not  _ his.  _ And even if it was Cas’s face in his nightmares lately, glacial chill running like a current through his veins as the room grew brighter and brighter, it wasn’t as bad. It wasn’t the same as untold years - centuries - of torture in the Cage, a different face leering over him, taunting him and laughing at his screams.

_ In. Out. In. Out. _

He could pretend. It was just Cas. Just Cas. Maybe if he said it enough times he could fool himself, make himself believe the body belonged to anyone other than  _ him.  _ Maybe he could keep the panic attacks at bay.

He kept them well-hidden, of course. Any time those cold blue eyes - so familiar in their horrible duality - began boring into him and he felt his chest tighten, heart thumping faster as his vision blurred, he made an excuse and left the room. When he couldn’t do that, he kept quiet, withdrawing into himself.

_ In. Out. In. Out. _

A few times, he caught Chuck staring at him. When that happened, or the room became too still, he made sure to make a comment. If Chuck had noticed something was off - and he was God, he probably knew exactly what was wrong with Sam, who was he kidding - it wouldn’t be long before Dean caught on. So he quipped, smiled, joked. Whatever it took to appear normal. He could play Dr. Phil to a pair of celestial - albeit one fallen - beings if that was what it took. Even if being in the same room as one of them made his skin crawl and his breathing restrict.

_ In. Out. In. Out. _

His first instinct was to put Dean or Chuck between himself and Lucifer. Stand across the room, stay away, don’t look at him, avoid him,  _ stay away. _ But that would be too obvious. So he stood too close, tried not to hold himself too stiff, and pretended. It was Cas. Even if he could feel  _ him,  _ waves of his all too familiar aura washing over him the closer he stood, he pretended. It was Cas. It was Cas. It was Cas, it was Cas, it was Cas. A mantra, a necessary lie.

_ In. Out. In. Out. _

Logically, he knew Lucifer couldn’t hurt him. That had been proven by his inability to kill Dean with a snap of his fingers earlier - something they had Chuck to thank for, apparently. As underwhelming as he was, considering he was capital G “God”, sometimes he did prove himself. It was enough to keep Sam’s faith afloat, even when certain comments pierced him to his core.

( _ “And I wasn’t going to mention this, but thank you so much for springing him.” _

_ “That wasn’t really the plan, um…” _ )

But none of this stopped him from collapsing in a boneless heap behind closed doors, breathing as erratic as his heartbeat after being in the same room as him for too long. Logic held no sway over the tremble in his hands and the thumping in his head.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t even go in his own room anymore.  _ He _ had been in there. It no longer held the same comfortable safety it once had; the austere decorations and militaristic bed did nothing but set a chokehold around his throat. It made him glad he had never personalized it further. He settled for hiding in the bathroom.

_ In. Out. In. Out. _

This wasn’t about him. They needed Lucifer to defeat Amara. He couldn’t afford to be selfish - not even if he wanted to lock him up in the dungeon, or toss him out of the bunker entirely. It wasn’t about him. Even if it felt like glass shards were piercing his lungs every time he so much as looked at him.

_ In. Out. In. Out. _

He couldn’t hide forever. Dean would get suspicious, and Lucifer - well, he would know he had gotten to him. And then everything would be worse. So he kept his moments of respite short, just enough to pluck the glass from his lungs so he could breathe again and steady the fault lines in his fingertips. And then it was back into the fray, dodging eye contact like bullets, and firing off words in defense. But none of the words he wanted to say.

 

_ ( “This is too much for me.” _

_ “Does he have to be here?” _

_ “I can’t breathe.” _

_ “He’s killing me.” ) _

 

It wasn’t about him.

_ (Just Cas, just Cas, just Cas.) _

 

_ In. Out. In. Out. _

**Author's Note:**

> If you, too, are a bitter Sam girl, come scream at me on my [tumblr](http://sarcastilecki.tumblr.com/).


End file.
